Last Throes of Summer

I love fall with an unreasonable love, not dissimilar to a fifteen-year-old crush. Everything about it, the scarves and boots, the crunchy and colorful leaves, the moody gray weather and the sparkly blue and orange days so beautiful it hurts, the chilly evenings that call for chunky sweaters…oh yes, bring it on!

August is not fall. I get that. It has an ugly birthstone, often the worst pictures in the whole calendar, is just hot on and on and on, and the world is just wilty and tired in August. My birthday is in August, and that golden day is pretty much the only thing that saves August from melancholy and despair. That, and the fact that August is followed by September. It’s like the dark before the dawn. I can forgive the dark, and even love it a little, because I know the dawn comes next.

I feel like the above blurb could pretty much have been written about me. Probably much to the annoyance of all my summer-loving friends who are mourning the swift passage of time, I am over here just pretending that we are on the very cusp of autumn. After all, August is practically over, and then comes September, and once it comes, I can breathe deep with the knowledge that my favorite time of year has come. I tell you, not complaining about the weather is so much easier when I love it. 🙂

George Eliot said it much better than I can. “Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the Earth seeking the successive autumns.”

So here’s to the fresh breath of air that is coming soon, just wait. Cheers!

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